Finding Matt
by Expendable Red Shirt
Summary: Matt runs away from Wammy's after his and Mello's first kiss. 2 years later Mello finds him - minus his memories! Matt doesn't know who Mello is, and he thinks he's straight! Mello's determined to change that. MxM, AU-ish. full summary inside.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So basically, Matt runs away from Wammy's, and 2 years later, Mello finds him, only to discover the redhead has lost all his memories! So he hatches a plan: If he and Matt start dating again, then maybe Matt will start to remember everything. Only problem, Matt doesn't remember Mello, and thins of himself as straight. And the question still remains, why did he leave Wammy's and how did he end up an amnesiac? MxM. AU-ish - there is still Wammy's and the race to succeed L and all that stuff, but there is no Kira. Enjoy!**

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Mello would never forget the day he and Matt shared their first kiss.

They were fifteen at the time, and had been dating for four months. Maybe most other couples would have kissed before then, but Matt and Mello had decided to go slow – they didn't want to mess up their friendship if it wasn't going to work out.

They were walking through the forest behind Wammy's, holding hands – something they had only just recently mustered up the courage to do – as they strolled down the trail. It was dusk, and even though they knew they shouldn't be so far from Wammy's when it was this close to getting dark, they didn't care. All that mattered to them was each other, and everything else came in a distant second.

"We haven't been here in while," Matt said, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen over them for most of the walk.

"Yeah, since we were ten, I think," Mello remembered. "We used to play here all the time."

"I wish I had known back then that I was in love with you," Matt said.

"Why do you always have to sound like a bad teen romance book?" Mello teased, punching his boyfriend on the shoulder.

"Oh, how my boyfriend abuses me," Matt joked back, his emerald eyes – he had his goggles lying around his neck, so Mello could see them in all their green glory – sparkling playfully. They were so easy for Mello to read after all his practice.

Matt's eyes were not just _green_. Most people who had green eyes had brownish green, dark, clouded green, or mainly blue with what they claimed to be some green. But in all his years, Mello had never met anyone else with the same color eyes as Matt. They were emerald, the purest, brightest green any human, non-manga character's eyes could ever be. Big and sparkling, so open.

That was why Matt hated them, and consequently why he wore the goggles, which Mello hated because they hid his best-friend-turned-boyfriend's beautiful eyes. But Matt didn't want people knowing his emotions. Didn't want people to know when he was in pain. Both for pride and because he didn't want anybody worrying about him. Mello was the only person he'd ever let see him cry, just as Mello had opened up to him.

They had both seen each other's weakest, lowest, most pitiful moments, their points of breaking, and it didn't push them apart. If anything, it made them even closer. They were true, if not to the rest of the world, to one another. Because they cared.

"But seriously, I wish I had known."

Mello cocked his head. "Why?"

"Because of this…" Matt responded, gesturing to the fallen, moss-covered log they used to use to mark how far out into the forest they could go as children.

"Yeah, I remember this place." Mello's lips turned up in a playful smirk. "And the poisonous skunk spray – do you?"

Once, when the boys were seven, they had found a family of skunks living in the log. Well, Matt had actually discovered the skunks when he was crawling into the hollow log. Poor boy.

Startled to see a little boy intrude his home, one of the skunks sprayed Matt. Genius child he may be, Matt hated the outdoors, and therefore knew next to nothing about the creatures that dwelled there.

He quickly convinced himself that the spray was toxic, and that he was going to die in any minute.

Fearing his immanent death and not wanting to take any secrets to the grave, he had broken down and sobbed and told Mello, who was with him at the time of the spray and knew plenty about skunks, that _he_ had been the one to take Mello's last Christmas chocolate last year, and not Near, and told Mello not to bother killing him, because he was going to die anyway now that the furry devil-creature had sprayed him with poisonous gas.

And then he asked him if Mello could be so kind as to take him back to Wammy's so he could die with his 'most precious' video games.

Mello, none too pleased about the chocolate revelation, cruelly let his friend believe he was going to die. He even carried him back to Wammy's letting Matt believe the whole way there that he was doomed to a death caused by a skunk spray. Only when they arrived at the front doors, now both smelling varying degrees of skunk, did Mello tell him he was not going to die.

Matt didn't believe him though, and he was in hysterics at this point. It took nearly the whole Wammy's staff and many other orphans to finally assure him that he wasn't going to die, and that he just needed a bath in tomato juice.

The redhead smiled at the memory. "How could I forget the day I almost died?" he laughed. "But what I was trying to say was I wish we were dating back then, because don't you think this could've made the perfect make-out spot?"

Mello cocked an eyebrow, getting a devilish glint in his eye. "Who says it can't now?"

What followed was steamy make-out session and much rolling around in the fallen autumn leaves that lasted well into the night, until a search party was sent out to find lovebirds and they heard their names being called.

They had grown so much closer that night. For both of them, it was their first relationship, first kiss, first make-out session, first everything, really, as both boys had next to no experience and limited knowledge on the topic of relationships.

And those were all reasons Mello would never forget it.

But the main reason that day was forever engraved in his memory was something that happened the next day.

Something involving the boy whom he was now sure he loved more than he hated Near.

Something that left his head swimming with unanswered questions.

Something that ripped his heart out and squeezed it till every drop of blood was spilled.

And what was that something that changed Mello forever?

Matt ran away.

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**So what did you think? This story doesn't really start going for a little bit longer, but this chapter gives you some insight. Sorry it was so short - next chapter will be longer, i promise!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: This chapter is pretty serious. I don't think there's any humor. But it was needed to move the story along. And for those of you who were wondering, Matt and Mello meet in chapter 4, though most of the encounter takes place in chapter 5. I don't want to move the story along too quickly, because it annoys me when people do that. But I promise there will be humor in Chapter 5, despite how hurt Mello is. Anyway, hope you enjoy!**

**And I realized I didn't put any disclaimer on the last chapter. Does anybody ever even do disclaimers anymore? I haven't done them for any of my other stories. But I might as well play it safe.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own death note, because if I did, Matt and Mello's part would have been much much bigger, I would've shown more scenes of Light and L with the handcuffs, and it would have been a yaoi.**

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One moment everything is clear, silent.

_The next, a high-pitched, shrill shrieking echoes through the air, a horrible, blood-curdling scream, as if someone is being murdered. Is that scream really from me?_

_No one is around to hear it._

_Nothing is changed. _

_Silence again._

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5 Days After Matt Runs Away

If Graham Brookhym had to choose the one thing in the world she loved most, it would be baking. Pies especially. Pecan pies.

She had no family left alive. It saddened, of course, her, but the kitchen lifted her up again, made her feel light and airy. And as the room filled with the scent of warm crusts baking in the old oven, it was better than any antidepressant on the market.

Her house was small but cozy. It felt like a home. And that was what was most important to her. She didn't need fancy furniture – she was fine with her hand-carved wooden chair with cushions sewn by her own two wrinkled hands tied to them and he ratty old floral-print couch.

She didn't need a two- or three-story home with a spa and a giant game room with all the latest gadgets. Just give her a nice little cottage with a front porch, a whicker rocking chair, and a glass of fresh-squeezed lemonade and she was set.

Of course, a good kitchen was a necessity as well. How else was she supposed to bake anything?

But even though she loved baking pies, there was only one of her, and she couldn't eat the whole thing by herself. And so she'd cut herself a slice, set out the rest of pie on the wooden railing of her porch, grab herself a glass of the aforementioned lemonade, take a seat in her old, creaky whicker rocking chair and sit back and relax as birds and squirrels and once even a deer came and nibbled on the pie.

Today was no different.

Except it was extremely different.

Because as Graham was enjoying the cool, crisp fall air and taking a sip out of her lemonade, she noticed over the rim of her glass something lying across the road. Was it road kill? It was awfully large.

She squinted her old, tired eyes, then gasped.

It had red hair.

No animal of that size that she knew of had red hair. Or wore striped clothing.

It was a boy.

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2 Years Later

"You know Mello, you don't have to be so depressed," Linda, who was twelve and had been brought to Wammy's the year before, said to the sulking blond.

She had a tendency to talk a lot, and could never seem to stay out of anyone's business.

"You don't look like the emo type," she continued, "except for your black clothes, but still. Recently you've been acting so down – you're not the Mello I used to know, it's like you were taken over or something. What's going on with you? You're never going to succeed L with that attitude."

"I don't want to succeed L," Mello muttered darkly.

Linda gasped and took a step back, her shiny ebony curls bouncing with her movement. "I knew it! Aliens have taken over your body!" she screeched. When Mello didn't laugh, she sighed heavily. "Seriously, Mello. You haven't been yourself lately, and you hardly seem motivated. Normally you practically kill Near when he gets a higher score than you. This last test you didn't even yell at him. You just walked away. What's wrong with you?"

What was wrong with him?

After Ma…

After Mat….

After Matt lef…

No, it was still too hard to think about. After the incident two years concerning a certain redheaded gamer boy, Mello had thrown himself – mind, body, and soul – into his studies, determined to beat Near and consequently succeed L while at the same time trying to forget his indescribable pain.

With all the pain boiling inside, it would turn into anger, and he would explode on Near if the albino even scored .01 percent higher than him on anything.

He did have his occasional victories over Near, and for days afterwards he would act like the old Mello again, the Mello he was before the incident.

No one knew exactly what had happened that night in the forest or why the redhead had left, but they all had their theories. Some guessed the pair – a known, out-of-the-closet couple that caught absolutely no one, not even Roger, by surprise – had had a fight, and that was why he left. But others said the boys had been in too good a mood to have just had an argument. They looked positively, blissfully in love. Like nothing could ever separate the two.

And then Matt was gone.

That was it.

No warning signs, no letter, not even any clothes missing except the ones he had been wearing.

There was no camera footage of him leaving the building – the system had been hacked into by an untraceable source and the cameras been shut down for the whole night. No information had been stolen, even when the hacker was in a position where he easily could've done so. Only the cameras were toyed with.

They couldn't put his face up on the news as missing; he was third place in the race to succeed L, his face was valuable. He was never on footage entering or leaving any of the UK's airports, never on any footage _anywhere_.

Even L himself couldn't track the missing redhead down.

It was as if he had completely disappeared. Wiped off the face of the earth.

Many, when they thought Mello wasn't around and couldn't hear them, whispered to each other, asking if anyone had heard anything about Matt. Most assumed him to be dead. How else could he avoid being found by _L_?

Mello wasn't as hurt by these ideas. In fact, he told himself that, too. It was better than the other option.

Maybe Matt didn't want to be found.

Matt was smarter than L. L knew this, Near knew this, and Mello knew this. They were the only ones.

He was third without trying or even bothering to stay awake in class. And he only _stayed_ third and didn't move up because he didn't care about the rankings and, in all honesty, didn't _want_ to succeed L.

That was why Mello had gotten along with him so well. The blond couldn't stand people of lesser intelligence than himself – what a bore to talk to! – but anyone smarter than him was a threat. Matt, however, was a genius with no ambition, therefore not an insufferable idiot and not a threat. He struck the perfect balance.

But the point is, Matt was more a genius than even L could ever hope to be. If he wanted to, he could outsmart L easily. If he didn't want to be found, not L or anyone else could ever hope to or dream of finding him.

And if he didn't want to be found, that meant he did not want to see Mello.

Mello would rather him be dead.

The idea of Matt watching over him from heaven and awaiting the blonde's eventual arrival there to be with him was much preferred to the idea that Matt never wanted to see Mello again.

Even if it caused him terrible pain to think Matt might be dead, it was even worse to think he might not be.

Usually, Mello avoided thinking about it.

For the week after Matt was discovered to be gone, Mello refused to leave his room. He didn't talk to anyone, didn't do his schoolwork, didn't even eat his chocolate.

After that, though, Mello seemed to return to normal, if a bit more ambitious and aggressive than before. Succeeding L mattered even more to him now than it had before, and he got even angrier when he didn't do well…. Poor little Near.

He had his strange little quirks that only developed after Matt had left, as was to be expected. Such as how, for nearly a year, he avoided every object beginning with the letter 'M', even going so far as to refusing to write the first letter of him own name.

And to this day still refused to even look the way of people wearing stripes, wouldn't watch the swimming and diving in the Olympics because the athletes wore goggles, and if he saw somebody smoking, he would walk right over to him, yank the cigarette out of his mouth, and rub it into the ground with his boot; it didn't matter if he knew the person or not. He wouldn't go in video game stores or arcades, and couldn't stand to see people playing video games, yet he kept all of Matt's old ones in their used-to-be shared room.

He had not touched a thing on Matt's old side of the room. The bed stayed unmade, rumpled clothes stayed on the floor. The elaborate technology setups Matt had for his computers – one for school (rarely used), one for play such as online games, and three for hacking – and gaming systems stayed set up, not given away or trashed or even just moved to another room. And his favorite Spongebob Game Boy game still sat in its special little holder on the bookshelf mostly used for games. It was as if remembering and thinking about Matt pained Mello, but he just couldn't let the missing gamer go, either.

His worst reaction though, by far, was whenever he saw a redhead. Thank goodness there were no redheads at Wammy's besides when Matt had been there, because Mello would either break down on the floor and sob as they walked by or beat the crap out of them with no explanation.

When they were allowed to go to the town, whenever one of the orphans would spot a redhead, they would all make a team effort to distract him for the sake of both Mello and whoever the unlucky cherry top was.

Still, besides these moments, Mello appeared, to all of the orphans, to be just fine and dealing with the loss of Matt rather well.

But what they didn't know was that it was all an act. A charade, put up as his last line of defense against the crushing sorrow that threatened to suffocate him in its sheer volume. To continue being, he needed his cover.

But he was empty inside.

The horrible, hideous pain and grief had swept through and left him a hollow shell of the boy he once was. Nobody could see this, and in the light of day, Mello could usually forget. It was harder at night, but he was always so drained from having to pretend to be okay that most of the time he fell right asleep, and didn't have time to think about it. He had violent night terrors nearly every night. But nobody knew about those.

Now, though, he just felt completely exhausted. More than he usually did. He just couldn't pretend anymore. Over the past couple weeks, his carefully sculpted façade had begun to crack and crumble. The mask had slipped and it would not be long before it fell to the floor and broke. It was all too much.

Maybe he could just die. That would be nice. He could join Matt in heaven, finally see his beloved again. There was nothing he would miss on earth. Wammy's, his home since he was only four, seemed foreign and cold without Matt there by his side. His world was pointless without Matt.

"Heeeelllllooooooo?" Linda's voice brought him out of his dark thoughts.

"What?" he snapped.

"You've been zoned out for, like, ten minutes," Linda told him, giving the blond a strange look. "It was getting sorta weird, you know? Are you okay?"

"Go away." Mello sighed.

"What?" Linda gasped, apparently insulted. "How rude of you! Why I –"

"Just, please, go." She must've noticed the catch in his voice, and known well enough to do as he said.

She clicked the door shut behind her, leaving Mello in darkness for not the first time.

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5 Days After Matt Runs Away

The boy didn't seem to have any wounds, but he was out cold. Could he have internal injuries?

And why had he been out there in the middle of the road, anyway? Graham was sixty miles from the nearest town.

She dabbed his forehead with the cool washcloth again. He had one heck of a fever. She was no doctor, so if the boy didn't wake up soon, she was going to have to call the hospital.

Thinking back on it, she probably should've called them in the first place. Why in the world hadn't she?

Now the boy was probably going to die, and it would be all because she hadn't called for an ambulance. His parents, whoever the people may be, were going to be so devastated.

A silent tear rolled down her cheek and landed on the boy's forehead. He stirred, and Graham gasped, leaning forward in her chair. He moved his head a bit, then his shoulders. His fingers twitched a couple of times and his breathing pattern changed from slow and labored to faster and a bit more gasping, before calming to a more easy pace.

Slowly, the boy opened his eyes.

They were the purest shade of emerald green Graham had ever seen.

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**A/N: That part at the beginning will come into play later in the story, but not now. Just try and remember it.  
****Also, for whatever reason, the part on FF that shows story traffic isn't working for me right now, because it says I haven't had any hits or visitors to any of my stories since tuesday of 2 weeks ago, which is impossible, because i've been getting reviews, favorites, and alerts since then. So to know people are reading, I have to get reviews or favorites or alerts, because it won't tell me any other way. So do one of those, or two, or, if you're feeling genorous, all three!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Ok, I wanna thank anyone who has reviewed over the past two chapters: Axcent, Always-Aftermath, Kaaayyytteee, Elvye, Mirror of Melancholy, PoisonXLilly, LenFanGirlXD, and Your Alien. Thanks for the encouragement, you guys! And of course, to all those who added this story to their favorites or alerts, but there are a lot more of those and I'm too lazy to type them all out, so thanks! You know who you are! And by the way, Matt isn't in the chapter :(. But it's important for Near and Linda to be really introduced, because they will be playing a pretty big part in this story (I think I'll have them be a minor pairing). Anyway, on with the chapter!**

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**~2 Months After Mello Leaves Wammy's~**

"Near?" Linda asked tentatively. Surprising, really, as Linda had never been tentative in her life.

"Yes, Linda?" Near responded in his usual emotionless voice, continuing to make his dice tower.

"Could…" she faltered, then chickened out and changed her mind. "Could I help you with that?"

"Yes," Near allowed. "But please do not knock it over."

"I won't," she promised.

After that they worked in silence for a while, Linda going a bit more slowly, trying her best to keep her word and knock over Near's dice tower.

"That is not what you wanted to ask me, Linda," Near finally spoke, wide grey eyes never leaving the dice. It was not a question.

"You're right," Linda admitted. "I chickened out. But I was going to ask you…" Again, her voice trailed off.

"You seem uncomfortable," Near noted, sounding barely interested.

"It's just…" she hesitated, before blurting out, "I want to know why Mello left!"

She looked around. Nobody, aside from herself and Near, was in the playroom.

"But it seems almost like taboo to ask, you know?" she went on in a less-nervous tone. "Like people will be shocked if you bring it up. I asked Roger about it, but he told me that it did not concern me. And none of the orphans are willing to talk about it."

"And why did you ask me? I am considered one of the orphans, correct?"

"Well, yeah," Linda said sheepishly. "But you don't seem to be affected by all of this. And I figured if I could get a straight answer from anyone, it would be you. I thought only someone as, um… emotionless" – she blushed as she said this, feeling bad for calling someone emotionless to their face, not that it would be much better to do so behind their back – "as you could give me a unbiased answer."

"Did it occur to you that I, who was always on the receiving end of Mello's temper, would be the one to give you the _most_ biased answer?" he pointed out.

"Well, yeah, but… I just thought you were mature enough to put that aside and tell me the truth. I guess I was wrong, though!" she huffed, and stood up to leave, but not before knocking down his meticulously arranged dice tower. Her face was turning red with annoyance.

'_On no,' _Near thought, worried now._ 'It can't be… Could Linda be… another Mello?' _(Insert dramatic music and random lightning strike here.) No! But she was so sweet to everyone… And Near sort of… How could this happen? Was it some sort of second-place curse? Or was it Near's own fault? Did he create the Mellos of the world? Near looked sadly upon his destroyed dice tower, not so much in remorse for the crumbling of the tower (though that did sadden him a bit), but for the idea that it was _his_ fault Mello was the way he was. Matt shouldn't have left. He had balanced it all out… And there was no Matt here now to stop Linda from becoming the orphanage's second Mello.

Linda clamped her hands over her mouth, surprised at what she'd done. She was frozen for a few moments, staring at the pile of dice no longer stacked, as if willing herself to believe she had not just done that. She had never done anything to purposefully hurt another, by actions or by words. She wasn't the type who liked to see people suffer… she couldn't even stand to see somebody she didn't like sad. How could she have…?

"Omigod, Near. I'm so sorry. I didn't meant to… I mean, I guess I did…. But I didn't expect it – I mean myself – to…" she stumbled over her words, and finally just hung her head. Near let out a small sigh of relief. Definitely not a Mello move. But there was still the chance… "I'm sorry," she finally finished.

"Why did you do that?" Near asked calmly.

"I was just angry… and I… I don't know… I just… I was just sort of frustrated, so I – "

"So you took it out on the poor, defenseless dice tower?"

'What the eff?' Linda thought. Near looked truly sad over the passing of his dice tower.

"I thought this would stop happening once Mello left…" Near trailed off, looking out the window.

Linda glared. Was he accusing her of being another Mello? That was totally unfair! Just because she'd gotten angry one time didn't mean she was suddenly some blond psychopath obsessed with being number one! She wasn't even a blond in the first place! "Well you have to admit, Near, you were acting like a jerk."

Near lifted his head a little and thought in surprise, _'I'm… a jerk…?'*****_

"But you clearly don't care, Mr. Question-Linda-on-her-motives-then-make-her-feel-dumb." Yeah, not her best one, but she was angry – can you blame her? She turned sharply on her heel, ready to walk out of the room, in none to good a mood.

Near held his hand up, palm facing her. "I was simply trying to understand your reasoning and test your logic. You are second now, and that means you could pass me. I need to assess you every so often, just as I always did with Mello. You don't seem like much of a threat." Linda just "hmphd" a little at this, but Near ignored it. "Neither did Mello. Nor does anyone else."

"I get it, because you're such a genius, you don't think anyone can beat you. Well just you wait. One day some kid smarter than you will come around and he'll beat you out for first place. Then you'll see."

"Actually, I already have met one whose intelligence is far greater than mine. His name was Matt."

"Was?"

"He is gone. Either dead or in hiding."

"So were you, like, in second place while he was here?"

"No, I held first. Matt was in third, behind Mello and myself."

"But how could he be in only third place? You said he was smarter than you."

"He was, but Matt did not want to succeed L. He had no ambition. But he held on to his place in third without an ounce of effort. He never did any of his practice work, and he played his Game Boy in any of the classes he didn't catch up on his sleep in. He didn't want to be first."

"But why would anyone not want to be first? First means succeeding L. That's what we're all trying for, here."

"He was in love with Mello." Linda gasped just the tiniest bit, and Near proceeded. "He did not want to achieve first place, for that would mean bumping Mello down to third. Matt loved Mello, hated anything besides video games that took any effort, and didn't care about the rankings. In his eyes, it made no sense to go for first when he was so complacent being third."

"But you said he is now either dead or in hiding. That means he had to have run away from Wammy's. If he was so happy where he was, why'd he leave?"

"After Matt and Mello had been dating for a few months, they disappeared into the forest for a while. They looked… happy when they came out. None of us know what happened in those woods. We can only guess. The next day, Matt was gone."

"Just… gone?" Linda asked. "Just like that?"

Near nodded, stacking another dice onto the tower. "L himself searched for him, but came up with nothing. Now, if Matt were a normal person, even a typical Wammy's orphan, the only assumption would be that he is dead. But Matt is even smarter than L – "

"No way," Linda gasped. "Smarter than _L_? Is that even possible?"

"If anyone could be smarter than L, it would be Matt," Near answered, before continuing what he had been saying before. "If he expended even half of his effort, he could easily escape and outsmart L."

"So what you're saying is that even if there's no evidence to say so, Matt might still be alive?" Linda clarified, and Near nodded. By now Linda had settled back down on the floor. "And you said that Matt and Mello were… a couple?"

"That is correct."

"So, maybe, Mello left to go find Matt. Is that something that might lead him leave? It seems like a possibility to me."

"If his leaving does have to do with Matt, than there are little other reasons why he would go. So yes, it is a fair thing to assume."

"Thanks, Near!" Linda chirped. "That really cleared things up for me. I hate being left in the dark." She would have to follow up on this, do some research on her own. She wanted to find Matt, she wanted to know what had happened.

'_She hates being left in the dark?'_ Near thought. _'Then maybe I should tell her….'_

Linda stood up, about to leave, then stopped. "Thanks again," she said cheerily, and swooped down to hug him quickly before leaving the playroom.

If she had turned back to say goodbye, she would have seen a faint pink blush painting the albino's snow white cheeks.

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**~LAX, Same Time Frame~**

Near and Linda were wrong.

Wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong.

Mello had _not_ left Wammy's to go find the lover he already believed to be dead.

Why should he waste his time searching for a dead guy that not even L could locate? If Matt was actually alive – though this was highly doubtful – and wanted to be found, then he would show up. But Mello was totally convinced that Matt was now his guardian angel, and somehow, it felt better this way.

So Near and Linda were incorrect. If Mello had heard their conversation and known about their guesses, he would be laughing in triumph, because Near had failed to figure it out. But of course, he was in America while they were speaking back at Wammy's House in Britain, so he did not hear them and therefore did not get the laugh he would have. Shame, really.

Mello left Wammy's for many reasons – including the constant reminder of Matt it served – but the main one was that he was tired.

Tired of being sad.

Tired of acting like he wasn't sad.

Tire of pretending that everything was totally normal and that he didn't mind that his loved was nowhere to be found.

Tired of holding it all inside.

But here in America, where nobody knew him, he could begin life anew. It was the land of opportunity, after all. Matt would have wanted him to do this, he was sure. To be happy again, and start living a real life.

He would never find another love. That simply wasn't in the cards. He would never get over Matt, and that was a plain and simple truth. But he could learn to live with the grief. Do something with it. Put his pain to good use, like poets, authors, and artists did.

Point being, he came to America for the same reason all those immigrants did two-hundred-something years ago and were still arriving for now: a new beginning.

Not to get caught up in the past again.

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***Remember when L had Misa in confinement and she called him a pervert? And he was all, 'I'm... a pervert...?' That was just a little play on what L did. Cuz I'm too uncreative to come up with my own stuff x3**

**A/N: Next chapter is when Matt and Mello meet again! Review if you want me to continue this! XD**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Yay! This one is longer than any of my first three chapters! It was 8 pages when I typed it on Word. I feel so accomplished! Hooray! So, Matt and Mello meet in this chapter! Most of what happens goes on in chapter five, but Mello finally finding Matt is a pivotal moment. On another note, can you imagine a hobo telling you to fuck off? … You'll see.**

**Disclaimer: Wait, let me check… nope, I'm not rolling around in piles of cash surrounded by cutouts of the Death Note characters, so I guess that means I still don't own Death Note. Le sigh…**

**~1 Week After Mello Comes to America~**

Mello's phone buzzed in his hand once again. The screen flashed the icon for an incoming text. He didn't bother to check who it was from. Who else would it be besides Linda? In the past week since Near had apparently told her about Matt, she had sent him four hundred text messages, averaging just over fifty a day. And they all said the same thing as this one:

_I know about Matt. Please talk to me._

It wasn't even in abbreviated text language, almost in some sort of attempt to demonstrate how serious she was.

Linda knew Mello wouldn't answer his phone. No matter who was calling (except if by some miracle it was Matt). And she also knew that even if he deleted the text, it still showed on the screen, so he would be forced to get more than fifty glances of those same words a day – there was no way he could _not _know what it said. She was a smart one, that Linda.

But just because Mello had his phone now, didn't mean he had to keep it. Nobody in America would know about him and Matt. Nobody in America would bring the redhead up. The whole reason he had left Wammy's was because he could no longer stand the constant reminder of Matt it served. Sure, he'd be beyond ecstatic and elated if he found him, but chances are Matt was dead and impossible to find, and he didn't need to be continuously reminded of this fact. Linda seemed intent on going against his wishes.

He grabbed a chocolate bar out of the front of his tight leather pants. Since coming to America, he had taken to wearing leather. He liked the way it felt, smooth, and how it stuck to his skin, almost like it was hugging him. In a way, it comforted him. It also made him look _damn_ sexy. But that was beside the point. Right now he was angry (though he did look hot angry, if asked any fangirl).

"Damn Near," he muttered under his breath. "Why the hell did he have to tell Linda about it? Why can't he mind his own fucking business?" By now, some of the people around him were staring. Think about it: a leather-wearing blond he/she biting chocolate like they were imagining it was a person whose head they were biting off, muttering under their breath and stomping around town. But this was also LA, so not too many people were staring. And many of those who were just looked amused.

His phone buzzed again, and he pulled at his hair in frustration. He stomped over to the nearest person, who just happened to be a hobo, and thrust the phone at him. "Here," he hissed. "The next time somebody named Linda texts, call her and tell her to fuck off."

The hobo looked puzzled, but agreed eagerly after Mello slipped him a fifty.

Well, that was one problem solved.

~Back at Wammy's~

Linda fired off another text, determined to get a reply from the apparently heart-broken blond. She knew she would eventually annoy him to the point where he would call or text just to tell her to leave him alone. At least, that was the plan. It was for his own good. Mello needed to talk to _somebody _about Matt. Whether he wanted to or not was not of concern to Linda.

She stared at her phone for a few seconds, then set it on the floor next to the purple bean bag she was sitting on and sighed. Suddenly, her phone started ringing.

_Have you ever smoked a big fat Cuban cigar?_

_Have you ever hitched a ride on a shooting star?_

_Have you ever seen red when it should've been yellow?_

_Whoa-oh, have you ever been mellow?_

That was the ringtone she had set for Mello. (Until she had heard about Matt, the smoking redhead, she never understood why Mello hated that song so much, and had set it just to annoy him. Looking back on it, she realized how cruel that was, though she reasoned that there was no way she could've known back then.) Excited to finally be able to talk to Mello, she picked up her phone and answered it quickly, hoping she was finally at the breakthrough.

"Mello?" she breathed into the phone, excited that her plan had worked.

"Is this Linda?" asked a scratchy voice that was _definitely _not Mello's.

"Yes… Why…?"

"Oh, hi Linda," the man on the other end of the phone said. "Oh, I mean, fuck off!" And then he hung up.

Linda stared at the screen displaying the 'call ended' icon and the time the call had lasted (it was eighteen seconds, by the way). "What the eff?"

**~1 Year Before Mello Comes to America – Summer~**

"Are you sure you want to move to LA, Graham?" the teenager asked, lifting another heavy box in the back of the old black pick-up truck that was covered in so much dirt and dust from the country road that it almost looked brown. "It'll be a big change from the countryside."

He didn't complain as loaded all their belongings into the truck. He wasn't very muscular, but he was decently strong, if thin and lanky – any and all muscles he had were of the wiry kind. In any case it was better than the old woman lifting the big cardboard boxes herself. Especially in this summer heat.

"I'm sure, 'hun," Graham said, fanning herself. "You're fifteen years old. You need to grow up around kids your age. This'll be good for you, Daniel. Now pack the rest of the stuff into the car, we're leaving – no more arguing."

Daniel sighed and shook his head, smiling. "I don't think a terrorist with a bomb strapped to his chest could make you leave a store if you weren't done shopping," he joked, referring to her stubbornness.

Graham grinned at the boy she had come to see as her own son – or grandson, taking her advanced age into consideration. "Now what would I be if I let myself get ordered around?"

"A fifteen-year-old boy named Daniel loading boxes into the bed of a pick-up truck," Daniel joked, laughing. He jammed the last item in between a ceramic lamp (a lamp that didn't work, he should point out) and a chair cushion that he and Graham had somehow neglected to pack.

Graham tossed him the keys (which he caught only by diving forward and subjecting himself to a mouthful of dirt) and Daniel got into the driver's seat. Sure, he wasn't _legally_ allowed to drive, but Graham had never gotten her license renewed because she called herself a menace to the public when she was behind the wheel – just ask Darvis Simms, who live about 2 miles down the road; when Graham was driving to the general store, Darvis had narrowly avoided being road kill… twenty-three times and hopefully no longer in counting – and it wasn't like there were any cops to patrol this country road anyway. Besides, Daniel looked older than he was, and he had a lot of practice driving, so he wouldn't get pulled over or anything.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Almost, just one more thing," the old woman said, rushing into the house and grabbing a pecan pie off the counter. One would think she had made it as a snack for the road. But no. This was a goodbye present for her little old cottage and all the animals that would no longer get to eat her pies (wow, that had sounded more like a lame Disney fairytale than she thought it would***** – just call her Grahamarella). Here was one last one, just for them.

She set it on the porch railing and then walked back over to the car, where she was greeted by the understanding look on Daniel's face. His big emerald eyes that had at first seemed so strange and exotic to her but she had now become used to, looked soft and sympathetic now.

"You're doing this for me," he said as Graham climbed into the passenger seat. "But you don't want to leave your home." It wasn't a question. "I don't want you to make sacrifices for me. You had a life before I was here. We could stay."

Graham gave him a playful look. "Is this your way of trying to get out of having to go to school?" she asked.

Daniel laughed. "You caught me."

"Well there's no getting out of it, so let's get going."

They sat in comfortable silence for most of the ride into town, Matt focusing on the road and Graham just thinking.

She knew from the moment she'd found this boy that her life would change, especially when he started babbling, asking where he was, who she was, who he was, if she knew who he was, and if she knew what had happened to him. The boy had completely lost all of his memories.

He had taken it all pretty well, considering. At least, that's how it seemed to Graham. Of course, even after a few weeks, he hadn't really accepted her as part of his life, nor had he opened up to her. But Graham was patient and didn't push him. Then one night a little after a month since he had shown up, still no sign of memories, Graham was at the table next to the kitchen sewing him some new clothes – she had already done this, but he couldn't live off of three outfits – when he came in, tears running down his cheeks. He sobbed for hours that night, finally letting out all the pain and confusion and sorrow he had been holding in for so long. Graham comforted him, her years of raising her only son (who was dead) having given her good practice. After that the boy had come to see her as his parental figure, mother or grandmother, it didn't matter.

It was then that they decided he needed a name. He was the one who first suggested Daniel, and they'd both liked the sound of it. So Daniel had stuck. Together they guessed his age to be fourteen, and just decided that his birthday would be in January, since it was at the beginning of the year and was just easiest.

After that, he adjusted nicely into life with Graham. Yes, there were nights where he cried himself to sleep, and Graham knew when to comfort and when he just needed to get through it alone, but for the most part, he was fine.

Except he didn't have any friends his age. He was friends with sixty-year-old Darvis Simms and his wife Mary; he always enjoyed talking to Ed Greene, who worked for and lived with Darvis and Mary; he had quickly befriended Genie and George who ran the Genie and George's General Store that was the only shop within close driving distance and their one-stop shop for everything; and of course he was close to Graham herself. But he didn't have any friends his own age, mostly because they lived sixty miles from the nearest school.

Which was why they were moving now. Because the government was bound to find out about him sometime, and she wouldn't want the first thing they noticed to be that he was a truant (that would be the first thing they pointed out in court if they tried to place him in foster care). And it would be nice for him to socialize with people his age – not just nice, it would be healthy for his development. Daniel was incredibly intelligent, even without schooling, and Graham was sure he would go on to do great things, but only if he had the necessary skills in life. And living miles away from civilization was just not going to give him those skills. It was time for him – them – to meet the world.

A couple hours of speeding later, and they were getting close to town, when… a traffic cop pulled them over.

"License and registration, please," he ordered as Daniel rolled down the window.

"Sure thing," Daniel replied easy, then slowly pulled his license-less wallet out. He was waiting for his cue from Graham.

The officer tipped his hat to her. "Evenin', ma'am."

"Oh, hello, officer," she said. "May I ask why you are pulling my grandson and I over?"

"This vehicle was traveling and ten miles over the speed limit," the officer told her.

"Tsk, tsk," she 'scolded' Daniel, shaking her head, before turning back to the officer. "He's still learning, and – DRIVE, DRIVE, DRIVE!"

And that was all Matt needed to stomp down on the gas pedal and zoom on out of there.

'_Man,'_ he thought, _'Graham is the coolest old lady __**ever**__.'_

~1 Month After Mello Arrives in America~

One month after his arrival, and Mello was almost completely settled in good ol' Los Angeles. Was it strange? Heck yeah, it was strange. But he fit in.

Back in Winchester, if he had worn his leather pants, midriff-bearing vest to go with his rosary, every single person he passed would've stared, the jaws hanging open and eyes wide – like fish. But there were weirder people than him in the city of Los Angeles, so most of the time, people didn't care.

He had his own apartment. It was in downtown, and a way to describe the place would be run-down and shabby, and that was if you were trying to make it sound good, but it was cheap and low-key, so people weren't likely to pay attention to it. And if they did, the landlord didn't keep any papers because he didn't seem to know of the existence of any laws, so Mello could just move on and the cops could never trace him. He also didn't have to attend school, as he was seventeen, old enough to not only be emancipated, but to not be considered a truant for not attending and high school.

He was with the mafia, having ascended through the ranks at an unprecedented rate. He wasn't a lower-ranked thug, despite only having been in the mafia for a few weeks. According to the other guys, that was entirely unheard of. Men spent years upon years and _never_ made it as high as he was. It wasn't as if he was a mafia boss. He didn't just give orders behind the scenes, he half-gave orders and was half-given them, and he had to be there when they were staging a raid or a kidnapping or whatever else it was. But he often helped plan it, and had groups of men that _he _was in charger of. It was amazing. He couldn't imagine doing anything on the legal side of society would give him the thrill he got when he hopped on his bike and sped away from a building that was just about to be demolished by bombs _he_ – and his men, of course – had set. Plus, adrenaline was a good distraction.

But even someone in the mafia had to go grocery shopping. What? Even though chocolate did make up most of his daily food consumption, it didn't mean that was _all _he ate. He had to have protein and green vegetables to stay fit, and of course fruits and healthy carbs, or else he would be a fat-ass, and there was no room for those in the mafia- they would slow the others down or more likely die in some situation where moving quickly was essential. Couldn't let that happen to future mafia boss, now could he?

The farmer's market, which probably had the best-tasting healthy foods out there, was only open on Thursdays and Saturdays******. Food was running really low at his house, and he had a raid of an ammunition company that owed the mafia millions of dollars on Saturday, so it had to be that Thursday.

If the raid had been some other day, and he had gone on Saturday, his life would've stayed the way it was. He would have continued missing Matt, and continued distracting himself by doing illegal things in the name of the mafia. He would have kept moving up higher in rank, until he was a boss. He would have continued living his life the way it was in LA.

But the raid was on Saturday, and Thursday found him shopping for any non-chocolate-related foods he ate.

Coincidentally, the same day the supposed 'Daniel' and Graham had chosen to go to the market. Graham, because she needed to buy their food for the next week, and Daniel, because he was a good person and didn't want someone as old as Graham going by herself. Without Graham even having to ask, he knew she would need his help to carry bags and such, especially for the walk back. They had gone on Thursday because Graham hadn't wanted to deal with the crowds Saturday would bring.

"Daniel, you go give this money to Mr. Johnston," Graham instructed, handing Daniel some cash. "Last week he let me buy some oranges when I didn't have any money left and told me I could pay him next time." Mr. Johnston had known the two for a while now, and trusted them enough to make deals like that. "Actually, he offered to just give them to me for free, but I want to pay him anyway."

Daniel headed off to do what he was told without complaint. _'It would've done my son good to know that boy,' _she found herself thinking.

'_Hmm, what's first on the list?' _Mello thought, then referred to the list in his head. _'Ah, bananas.'_ How delicious they were when covered in chocolate. Actually, everything was delicious when covered in chocolate. _Everything._

Mello headed over to the banana stand, but was stopped in his tracks by someone at the stand right next it, examining a large orange that the man in the booth was trying to convince him tasted just as good as any regular-sized orange. But Mello didn't give a shit about the oranges. It was the boy.

He had red hair.

Bright red, an unnatural shade that only Matt had naturally.

How _dare_ he dye his hair to impersonate Matt! He was just trying to rub Mello's loss in his face all over again, and the impersonator had followed Mello all the way to America to do so. He had probably always been hiding in the shadows, waiting for the perfect time to make Mello hurt all over again. (Mello's logical mind wasn't exactly working at the moment).

He stomped over the to the fake redhead. "Hey, you," he sneered.

The impersonator turned around to look at Mello, as if to say 'me'? "What did I do?" he demanded in a voice that sounded oddly familiar, frowning slightly and taking off his sunglasses. Mello was about to yell at, beat up, and possibly even murder the person who dared impersonate Matt, but was stopped in his tracks.

His eyes… They were a shade of green Mello had never seen on any other person, except one. Never on anyone, except a certain redhead that had disappeared from their shared room at Wammy's more than two years ago. Only that person could have eyes such pure emerald, they put the gem to shame.

Those eyes belonged to Matt.

Instantly Mello went from murderous and hurting, to a level of happiness and pure love he could only reach when Matt was there. He hadn't felt like this in a long time. "Matt!" he yelled happily, tears coming to his eyes. He jumped forward and hugged his best friend and lover that had gone missing all those years ago.

Instead of being as deliriously happy as Mello was now that they had found each other again, Matt demanded, "Who the hell are you? Get off me!"

Mello gasped and took a step back, staring into the redhead's now cold and distrustful eyes. "Y-you don't remember me?"

Matt brushed his shirt of a little, as if wiping Mello off. And the next little two-word sentence he uttered had enough power to crush Mello's heart to bits and pull his sky-high hopes to the ground. He never knew two words could hurt so much. Because Matt looked at him, confused and hostile, and asked:

"Should I?"

***I have nothing against Disney (I actually like their classic animations, but I hate their new stuff, excluding Princess and the Frog), but when I was deciding Graham's charater, one of the things I came up with was that she didn't like Disney. I came up with several things about her that will never be shown in this story, but help define her character – I just saw the perfect opportunity to use the Disney-hater one.**

****I don't know what days the farmers markets are open for in LA, because despite the fact that I live in an LA suburb, I barely ever go there after I quit my acting lessons, so I went with the days it is in my town.**

**A/N: Du-du-duunnnn. What will happen next? Guess you'll just have to wait and find out :3 (I feel so evil). And review if you want me to continue this, because if I feel like people don't care about me writing this, I'll stop, and those who wanna know what happens will just have to come up with it themselves :3 (really feeling evil today). So, you know what to do – review! (Hey, that rhymed!)**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Fifth chapter is here! Whew, I'm glad this chapter is done! I kept on putting off sitting down and writing this until last night, so I'm just glad that it's on time. I hit some pretty bad writer's right about after the part where Matt is claiming he's Daniel. I sat there, staring at the screen like an idiot for somewhere around forty minutes before I could finally start writing again!**

**I think the third chapter was the last time I thanked people for reviewing, so now, my thank-you to all of those who have reviewed since then: yvonna, Misha2011, PoisonXLilly, LovingMyth, Kaaayyytteee, Mirror of Melancholy, blank111111, ACP6jokerlover97, Axcent, 97, Robotic Unicorn, Lupa Dracolis, LalaLa2440, randomgirl31, Vicked Lemmo, and xYourDearlyBeloved. Whew!**

**So Mello and Matt have met! What will happen, I wonder? Guess you'll just have to read and find out!**

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Recap:

"_Matt!" he yelled happily, tears coming to his eyes. He jumped forward and hugged his best friend and lover that had gone missing all those years ago._

_Instead of being as deliriously happy as Mello was now that they had found each other again, Matt demanded, "Who the hell are you? Get off me!"_

_Mello gasped and took a step back, staring into the redhead's now cold and distrustful eyes. "Y-you don't remember me?"_

_Matt brushed his shirt of a little, as if wiping Mello off. And the next little two-word sentence he uttered had enough power to crush Mello's heart to bits and pull his sky-high hopes to the ground. He never knew two words could hurt so much. Because Matt looked at him, confused and hostile, and asked:_

"_Should I?"_

His first reaction was shock. How could Matt not remember him? This person was definitely Matt; there was no doubt in Mello's mind about that. But it was a Matt who… didn't know him?

His second reaction was sadness. Mello had spent years in emotional hell, doing anything he could, even resorting to, for a very short time, drugs, just trying to not _always _think about the redheaded gamer whom he loved more than any other person on this earth. He had to continually tell himself he didn't miss Matt, simply so he would not turn the gun on himself. And now that he had finally found Matt, and admitted to himself how much he had missed – which was even more than he had first thought – and needed him, the boy didn't even remember who he was? It was crushing.

His third reaction, and the reaction he settled on, was anger. Ever since Matt had left, Mello had thought of him always, rather he wanted to or not, and had never stopped loving him. But _Matt_? Had _he_ missed Mello all these years? Had _he_ constantly thought about Mello? Had _he_ ever stayed awake till two in the fricking morning, just so he could cry without being disturbed? No, he hadn't. Mello grieved for years, and Matt had the audacity to _forget_ him?

"Answer my question," the memory-less Matt demanded. "Who are you? And don't try anything funny, I'm trained in kung fu." (A total lie.)

"Matt!" Mello gasped with a mix of anger and surprise at the redhead's acidic tone.

"Well 'Matt', would you mind telling me why you think I should know you?" Matt asked.

"No, I'm not Matt!"

"You just said you were Matt. Make up your mind." Matt gave him a distrustful look. It was understandable, but Mello wasn't in a very understanding mood at the moment.

"I'm not Matt, you idiot!" Mello yelled. "I'm Mello! Why the hell don't you remember?"

"You're not really mellow, you know," Matt pointed out, backing slightly away from the raging blond. The redhead was less angry now and more confused and worried. "You're more like really, really angry."

"No! I'm _Mello_," Mello insisted, coming closer to Matt.

"Umm, are you sure you know the meaning of that word?" Matt asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Mello's my name, dumbass," Mello shot back. "Not my mood. And you should know."

"Well, yeah, it's obvious mellow isn't a way to describe your mood," Matt muttered, then changed gears immediately when he saw the glare Mello was aiming his way. "But I thought you said your name was Matt…?"

"No, I'm Mello, you're Matt."

"You must have me confused with someone else," Matt said. "I'm Daniel Brookhym and… I probably shouldn't be telling you this because you could be some sort of psychopath."

"If I were a psychopath you'd already be dead," Mello scoffed.

"I use the term 'psychopath' loosely."

"Well maybe you shouldn't be so casual about it. If you said that to a real psychopath, you'd be dead in a heartbeat."

"Not necessarily…"

"You haven't changed, have you?" In a way, that couldn't be more true, but it was also, in a more obvious way, completely false.

Matt loved to argue. Whether he cared about the subject or not, it was an enjoyable pastime for him. He could get angry, but it wasn't often and the temper flares, when they did occur, did not last very long. He also knew just how to get under Mello's skin, but in a more discreet way than Near did. 'Daniel' was doing that now.

But Matt knew Mello. Knew him and loved him, at least at the time of his disappearance. Matt hated the sun and would never, _ever_ agree to go to the Farmer's Market. In fact, he didn't even like healthy food. If he could, he would live off of microwavable ramen noodles. 'Daniel' looked healthier than Mello remembered Matt being. He was still lean and tall, making him appear skinnier than he was, but he had wiry muscles now, and his skin tone was a much healthier color, even if he still was pale for living in SoCal.

"I haven't… changed…" Realization dawned on Matt/Daniel. "You mean… you knew me before I lost my memories?"

"You… you what?"

**~Wammy's House~**

"Matt is alive," Near said suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen over the two as they researched.

"What?" Linda gasped. "How do you know?" She rolled her chair over to Near's desk to take a look at his laptop. A few of her silky curls brushed against Near's cheek, which caused him to redden instantly. They were so close…

He shook his head once. _'Stay focused, Near,'_ he reminded himself.

"I was searching through police records, and by chance happened to come upon a ticket issued to Graham Brookhym and her supposed grandson, Daniel. She had given orders to Daniel to 'drive, drive, drive,' when they were first approached, but at his insistence stopped a couple miles later. She claimed they were in a hurry to get to California. Since they were on a desolate road and no civilians were endangered, they were simply fined. But the description of Daniel fit Matt so completely, that I followed up on it. I have gotten access to his school photo, and that is definitely Matt. I now know his home address, his school, and have access to anything else on record about him."

"Near, you're amazing!" Linda gushed, and Near nearly killed himself trying to prevent the natural blushing process.

He coughed lightly. "Yes, well, unfortunately, since he and Graham Brookhym were living in a very desolate area, no records of him exist from anytime before the ticket, so that still leaves unanswered questions…"

"What about Graham?" Linda asked. "Tell me more about Graham."

"She's a widow," Near said, reading off the screen. "And she has a son – no, had a son. His name isn't listed anywhere. The only thing this mentions about him is he… disappeared." He shared a looked with Linda, then read on. "No one ever came forward with any information, any and all of the suspects were eventually crossed off the list and declared innocent, and no remains were ever found. He was presumed dead."

**~Farmer's Market in LA~**

"Y-you lost your memories?" Mello stuttered.

"Yeah. I can't remember anything past a couple years ago," Matt admitted, looking down.

"Then wh… what happened to you?" Mello asked.

"I don't know, okay?" Matt snapped, but instantly the anger was gone. He had a million questions to ask. "So you knew me? My name is Matt? Who are my parents? What's my last name? Where did we live? Was it in America? Who are you to me?"

"Who am I to you?" Mello repeated, ignoring all the questions that came before it; those would take more explaining than he felt like doing in public.

"Yeah, like, were you my friend, enemy, brother, step-brother, cousin, simple acquaintance – you get the idea."

"W-we… We were…" Mello was hesitant to answer. If Matt had lost all his memories… then he might not remember being gay.

An old woman seemed to appear out of nowhere. There were tears shining in her eyes. "You mean you knew Daniel before he lost his memories?" she asked, and Mello nodded. The old woman walked forward and hugged him, a tear spilling over and rolling down her cheek. "Oh, thank you," she said, her voice quivering a bit. "You don't know how long I've been something like this would happen, thinking maybe it could help get Daniel's memory back."

"W-well I… um, who are you?" Mello was still standing there stiffly as an old woman he didn't even know was hugging him.

She stepped back, sniffled, and smiled. "Oh, sorry, I'm Graham Brookhym," she introduced herself. "I've taken care of Daniel since I first found him. He couldn't and still can't remember anything about the life he had before living with me. It's an honor to meet you."

"I'm Mello."

"Mello's his name, not his mood," Matt supplied helpfully, before turning to the blond. "So, how did you know me?"

"Umm, we were… we were dating," Mello finally admitted.'

The three were silent for a long while. Matt stood there, staring at Mello, his mouth hanging open. Finally, he managed to speak. "Y-you mean I was… gay for you?"

"That's… basically it, yes," Mello said.

"Bu-but that's impossible!" Matt spurted. "I'm – I can't be gay. I have a girlfriend!

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A/N: Hah-ha! See, the thing where Graham and Matt drove away from that cop DID have a point! Now Near and Linda know that Matt is alive, and all about Graham and how he's known as Daniel and about their moving to California. And betcha didn't know she and Matt got caught after fleeing. I totally planned it to work out that way… Yeah, let's just go with that…

**And gasp! Matty has a girlfriend? **_**Our **_**Matty? **_**My **_**Matty?**_** Mello's **_**Matty? Mello is not going to be happy about that… I hope he doesn't kill her later on in the story… then again, some of you may hope he does! **

**How about this? Matty's girlfriend's fate will be decided by the reviewers! So review, for you alone have the power to decide the fate of the world… JK! Just the fate of our dear Matty's girlfriend! She'll be introduced in the next chapter, I think. If not, then the one after that. She'll be coming into the story soon, basically.**


	6. Chapter 6

**AN-** Oh Em Gee! Is it really me? Updating Finding Matt! Better start your praying, folks, because the world is surely coming to an end. Ok, ok, seriously. How long has it been since my last update? I don't even wanna check. It's been months. And I could come up with enough excuses to make up a 300-page novel, but I won't. I just hope that if there are any fans left of this story, you aren't disappointed with this chapter.

The identity of Matt's mystery girlfriend is revealed! Maybe it'll make some of you change your minds about her fate? It will still be decided by the reviewers ;). I'll probably put a poll up on my profile, so feel free to vote there and keep her safe or kill her! And you also get to meet Jason (my OC)! And Mello cries! Le gasp! Yes, it seems OOC for him, and it is, but that's the point, plus it's a necessary thing. But don't worry, he also goes on a more Mello-y f-bomb tirade where he cusses so may times I felt shocked writing it ^^;;.

**Disclaimer- **I don't own Death Note, or else I never would have gotten any of the chapters out on time x3. All credit goes to the very punctual Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata. I am a simple fangirl who doesn't update her stories like she should.

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-(This one picks up right around where the last chapter let off, so no time skip at the beginning – for once!)-

Mello lagged behind Matt – ah-hem, _Daniel _– and the old lady – Graham, was it? – too miserable and caught up in his own self-pitying to notice the slightly disgusted looks his old boyfriend was sending his way. And it was probably safer for Matt if the look continued to go unnoticed.

After the initial awkwardness of meeting the supposedly straight 'Daniel's' boyfriend, Graham had gotten excited again and insisted Mello come back with them to the apartment, despite Matt's (no matter what he called himself now, he was still Matt) obvious discomfort.

It was all worse than Mello had dared to imagine.

He had told himself Matt might be dead. He had told himself Matt was alive, but kidnapped and unable to escape. He had told himself Matt was alive, free, but wanted to start his life over, leaving everything, including Mello, behind, no matter how much it pained him. He had told himself Matt thought about him everyday but had changed so much that he couldn't bare to let Mello see the new him. Okay, so those last two theories were not very believable and sounded like they came from one of those cheesy soap operas that ran for God knows how many years, but that wasn't the point. The point was that Mello had imagined all sorts of different reasons as to why Matt disappeared and where he disappeared to…

But he had never once imagined Matt would go and lose all his memories, live happily like he had never known Mello, find a new family, and _get a girlfriend_. In fact, he had always been _sure_ the last one was impossible.

Because Matt _wasn't_ _straight_. It was simple as that.

Neither was Mello. And he never would be. Sexuality wasn't really a conscious thing, you couldn't change it. Your sexuality was set in stone when you started developing in your mother's womb, sometimes it just took you a while to realize it or admit it to yourself. Even if you lost your memories, your sexuality remained the same.

If you asked anyone at Wammy's house, Matt and Mello weren't even gay, straight, _or _bisexual. The only people they'd ever been attracted to were each other – Mello was only Matt-sexual and Matt was only Mello-sexual.

So could somebody please explain to Mello how in the world Matt _for_-freaking-_got_ him?

They arrived that the apartment, which was far better than his own, but that was like saying flying in the coach seats at the back of the plane right next to the bathroom was better than spending the flight strapped to the wing – one was exponentially worse, but you couldn't feel grateful for the other unless you'd gone through the whole wing thing – if that made any sense whatsoever. It probably didn't. Who cares, anyway? Mello almost never made sense. Why start now?

Graham started putting the groceries away like today was nothing different, and told Mello and "Daniel" to sit at the small dining room table, which was really just an oval table with four chairs placed on the tile next to the kitchen.

_Now_ Mello noticed the look his previously loving boyfriend was giving him. Mello glared right on back, fighting the urge to punch the redhead in his goggle-less face. Mello thought about the orange goggles in the top drawer of his nightstand back at his apartment. They were the goggles Matt left behind the night he disappeared; Mello had kept them to remember him by, on the nights when he felt like he couldn't get through without _some _reminder of the redhead. And of course, he kept them on the off chance of ever finding Matt again.

Well, now he had, but he was almost certain this _new_ Matt would look at the goggles incredulously and push them away in disgust, if only because they were being handed to him by Mello.

Mello was not only angry and devastated, but confused. Yes, about how Matt had lost his memories, of course, but that pondering could be saved for a later date.

What he really wanted to know was, why didn't Matt seem to feel any connection to him?

This was the redheaded boy Mello had loved and belonged to heart and mind, the one who had loved and belonged to him body and soul. And now, they were reunited after years apart, and Matt felt nothing besides discomfort and mild _disgust_? Even without his memories, he should've felt that something that was there. Because it _was_ still there. It was Matt and Mello – that something was never supposed to go away.

Apparently it did for Matt, as his glare proved.

Mello remembered how, back at Wammy's, he'd hated Matt's goggles. They blocked his big, beautiful, expressive, shining emerald eyes from view. Well now he could stare at them all he wanted, and in a cruel ironic twist, he would now do anything to have those goggles covering them up again. Anything to not have see the revulsion and suspicion reflected so clearly in Matt's oh-so-readable eyes.

Mello was so caught up in his own thoughts he didn't realize Graham had sat down at the table (and poured a glass of lemonade for all of them) until she started talking. "What did you say your name was, dear?" she asked. "Melon? Marro?"

Mello shook his head quickly, clearing his thoughts. "Umm, call me Mello," he said. He took a sip of the lemonade and grimaced; too sour. He hated anything citrus-related unless it was completely smothered by sugar. He saw a little bowl of sugar cubes and started dropping them in, one by one.

He noticed Graham and Matt staring at him as he dropped his eleventh sugar cube in and smirked; he still had at least nine more to go.

"And you were calling Daniel… 'Matt' was it?" Mello nodded. "So would it be correct to assume his full name if Matthew? And you said you were his… boyfriend – "

"Don't use that word!" Matt cut in angrily in a disgusted-sounding voice, shooting another icy glare at Mello.

Graham ignored this short outburst. "So you must have known his family. What's his surname?"

"I don't know your real name," Mello answered, addressing the answer to Matt, even though Graham had been the one to ask while Matt had just glared. "Or your parents."

"I knew it!" Matt burst out, jumping up from his seat. "You didn't really know me before, you're just some creepy obsessed stalker who trying to get in my pants by making up this stupid story! Get out of my house before I call the cops, stupid gay freak!"

Mello was beyond hurt to hear his beloved Matt say those words to him, each one cutting like a freshly sharpened blade. And with Mello, hurt often translated to rage. And rage often translated to cussing.

"Just shut the fuck up, will you!" Mello screamed, the rage almost visible in the air around him, and Matt quieted. "I don't know your parents because we went to fucking orphanage! By the time I even met you, both out parents were fucking dead, and we never fucking talked about it! And neither of us used our real names because it was a reminder of our parents!" That last part was a lie, but even through his rage Mello could think somewhat logically, and knew Matt shouldn't learn about Wammy's. Not now, not here.

Matt sat slowly back down, looking slightly less hostile than before. "My parents are… dead?"

"So are mine," Mello said, his voice shaking with anger. Anger at Matt – for not remembering him, not remembering anything, becoming this horrible… Daniel person. Anger at himself. Anger at the situation. And just a bit of sadness, for the loss of Matt and the loss of his parents, which still hurt to think about. "Both our parents are dead. Except the difference between us is, I can fucking remember it, you fucking jerk."

He sent Matt one more glare, anger helping him hold back his tears. But he could feel the lump in his throat rising; he needed to get out of here while he could still keep his tears behind his eyes. He turned to Graham and said tightly, "Thank you so very much for this pleasant conversation, but I think I'll be going now."

And in a second he was out the apartment, running down the stairs because the elevator was too slow and still, hot tears blurring his vision. He hated crying. It was so out of character for him. When he got sad, he usually expressed it with his fist or, more recently, his gun. But the problem was, once Mello started crying, he just couldn't stop; it was as if some dam in his eyes broke and all the tears had held back came out at once. And then he would go back to not crying for months, maybe years at a time. The last time Mello cried had been shortly after coming to America, when a wave of grief over Matt hit him so hard he'd honestly thought he'd been run over, or his apartment had collapsed on him, or something.

By the time Mello was halfway down the stairs he was crying so hard he couldn't see, and it came as a total surprise to him when he ran into someone and would have been knocked to the floor, if that someone had not grabbed his arm.

"Are you okay, beautiful?" a guy's voice asked.

"I'm fine," Mello snapped, snatching his arm away and keeping his head ducked, very indignant (but also slightly proud) about being called 'beautiful' by some guy he'd just met.

"Really, 'cuz you don't seem fine." The guy put cupped Mello's chin in his hand and titled the blond's head to look up at him. "Rough day?" he asked.

Mello jerked his chin away and wiped at his eyes. "'S'none of your business," he muttered.

"Here, use this," the guy said, handing Mello something made of soft cloth to wipe his eyes, and Mello took it, trying not to look grateful.

"Thanks," he muttered reluctantly.

"Don't worry about it," the guy assured him. "I don't use that sweater much anyway – only in the winter. It is Southern California after all." The guy reached out his hand. "I'm Jason. And you are?"

Mello accepted the offer for a handshake and looked up, his vision not quite so blurry this time, and got his first good look at Jason. If Mello hadn't been so devastated at the moment, he might have found himself thinking about how hot Jason was. Because he was. Hot. Jason was very hot. His hair was a light but still rich shade of brown, perfectly styled in the purposefully-tousled-but-neat style that probably took hours to do in the morning. Deep, liquid brown eyes sparkled kindly, and his professionally straightened, whitened smile was a sympathetic one. He skin tone was warm, tan from hours spent at the beach, no doubt. And he had the muscles of an athlete. A swimmer, perhaps? Or a surfer? It likely had something to do with the water.

Jason wore a light blue button-up made of very light material, the first three buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up to mid forearm. He had cream-colored swim trunks with brown designs on the sides and Rainbow flip-flops (to be clear, the brand was Rainbow, the color was dark brown). He wore a silver ring on his ring finger with some words engraved in it, but Mello didn't bother to read what it said.

But Mello was grieving over the loss of his Matt, so he didn't care about any of this at the moment. "I'm Mello," he said listlessly.

"Nice name," Jason commented, holding on to Mello's hand a second longer than was really necessary "So what's wrong, Mello? Girl troubles?"

"Ha!" Mello laughed – a bitter, sarcastic laugh. "Yeah, if only."

"Boy troubles?" Jason guessed next. "Did your boyfriend break up with you or something?"

Mello shrugged, then his shoulders slumped. "Sort of… I guess… it's kind of a long story. Too complicated to explain."

Jason nodded sympathetically. "I understand, no need to explain. But hey, if you ever need anyone to talk to…" He produced a green pen out of no where and gently grabbed Mello's hand. Mello was too depressed at the moment to care. "This is my number. Feel free to call whenever you feel like. Even in the middle of the night. I'll take a call from you, anytime." Jason winked suggestively, then walked back through the staircase door into the regular hallway. Mello didn't follow. He was too confused. He forgot about Matt for a moment, just a moment, when the loudest question in his head was:

Had Jason just been hitting on him?

**~A week after Graham and Daniel move to California~**

"Do I really have to go to school, Graham?" Daniel asked for the trillionth time. "I already know all the stuff they could ever teach me." Of course, he knew he wasn't going to be able to argue his way out of this one. It was the _law_ after all. He was lucky to have avoided attending school to this point.

"Yes, you have to go to school. And if you were as smart as you insist you are you'd know that."

Daniel sighed but smiled, giving up before he'd even really started. "Wish me luck," he called as he left the apartment.

"My fingers are crossed," Graham called back.

Daniel wasn't really worried. Sure, he hadn't talked with people his age since… well, ever, as far as he could remember. And he couldn't remember ever going to school, either. But he knew he must've had friends at some point in his life before he lost his memories. He must've gone to school before. So maybe it would just come back naturally.

'_Besides,'_ he reminded himself as he pressed the button for the crosswalk, _'being in a situation closer to the way I probably lived before I can remember might help me… well, remember."_

Back at the apartment, Graham was thinking the same thing. And anything that might help bring Daniel's memories back was always plus wherever Graham was concerned. Sure, she had come to see him as her own son, and a second chance to raise a child, even if it wasn't from birth. But just because she was so close to him didn't mean she wouldn't give him up to his true family in a heartbeat - if he could remember his old family. But she also worried they might not want him. There was never anything on the news (from what she could tell by listening to the radio news station - no television) about a missing boy. Or at least one that matched his age and discription. What if nobody was looking for him?

…

Daniel would like to say that even though he was the new kid, the school he was to now be attending had so many students they wouldn't even notice another one. Daniel would _like_ to say that, but this, unfortunately, was not the case.

He was pretty sure it was his hair.

He'd never really thought about it before, living out in the middle of nowheres-ville and all, but his hair was an unnaturally bright shade of red. The kind of color people dyed their hair when attending raves and the like.

"Are you _sure_ it's natural?" a girl in his first period had asked several times.

"I think I'd know if I'd dyed my own hair," he snapped, becoming irritated after thirty minutes of basically being asked this same question over and over again.

The girl pushed his hair around with the eraser side of her pencil. "Hmm… no roots… interesting…" she mumbled, sounding like a scientist studying a subject.

"No, it's not interesting. Because my hair isn't dyed!"

He should have realized how lucky she was that he had only been studying his hair, because after that she moved onto his eyes. Which was much, much worse.

"No, those have to be contacts," she insisted. "No eyes are naturally that shade of green. It's too perfect."

"If we've already established that my hair is naturally this shade of red, is it so hard to believe that my eyes are naturally this shade of green?" He glanced around the room, praying their history teacher would intervene. But Miss Imenes seemed much more interesting in doing her nails than teaching a class. In fact, the every student in the class was either talking with their friends, eating breakfast, doing homework from other classes, or catching up on missed sleep. Were all classes like this? He had never been to school before, as far as he could remember, so there was no way he could know.

His thinking was interrupted when a finger was suddenly jabbed into his eye. "Ow!" he cried, pressing the heel of his palm to the injured eye. "What the hell was that for?"

"I was testing for contacts," the girl answered simply, shrugging, as if this was the most normal thing in the world for her to do. "You passed. No contacts. Simply _amazing_..." She sounded truly in awe of this fact.

"What the hell is wrong with – "

"Hey, you wanna go out?" she asked suddenly.

His eyes twitched. "No I don't want to go out with you! You just stabbed me in the eye, for Pete's sake!"

The girl rolled her eyes. Her _uninjured_ eyes. "Oh, don't be so melodramatic."

A weird lightning strike traveled through Daniel's spine when she said the word 'melodramatic'. He saw a flash of… was it a blond girl? He saw the face of a laughing blond girl as it passed quickly through his mind. An unfamiliar yet familiar feeling of warmth spread through his entire body when he saw the flash of that face, a warmth that filled him inside, right to his very fingertips. Someone he used to know, before he lost his memories? The image of the girl disappeared from his mind, but the warm feeling stayed.

Maybe school really _was_ a good idea, after all. Only forty minutes in and he had already received a fragment of a memory. It wasn't much, but it was more than he'd ever had before.

"Helloooo? Anyone home?" the annoying girl was asking, waving a hand in front of his face.

"Oh, Katie, leave the poor boy alone," came another's girl's voice. He turned his head slightly to see a very pretty Japanese girl with short black hair and a sophisticated and arrogant air about her.

"Y-yes, Miss Kiyomi," the annoying girl – Katie, it seemed – stuttered nervously. Kiyomi made a brushing movement with her hand, clearly telling Katie to go away, and she immediately did as told, hopping up from her desk, grabbing her backpack, and almost running across the room to join a circle of some girls who might or might not have actually been her friends.

"Thanks for that," Daniel said, sighing in relief.

"I know how much of a pain Katie can be," Kiyomi agreed, rolling her eyes in a refined way. "Luckily, she does whatever I tell her to, so as long as you are in my company, she will not harass you. I am Kiyomi Takada, student body president. I practically _run_ this school."

"Daniel Brookhym, new student. I didn't know who the president of our _country_ was until I moved here a week ago. I want to _run_ _away_ from this school."

Kiyomi laughed, and, just like the rest of her, it seemed refined and fake and forced. "Oh, why aren't you just hilarious?" The bell rang then. "I'll see you at lunch. We always sit in the courtyard."

The way she said it, it was like it wasn't an invitation or an offer, more like an order he couldn't refuse. Not that he really minded. Sure, Takada seemed like a bitch, but at least if he hung out with her and her friends, he wouldn't be a social outcast.

…

Daniel hurried to the courtyard at lunch, and found Takada (which he had taken to calling her because it seemed to fit her better than such a pretty name like Kiyomi) sitting at a stone picnic table underneath the biggest tree at the center of the courtyard that offered the most shade. It seemed like it would be a coveted spot, and he wasn't surprised that Takada's group had it.

Cautiously he came closer, until Takada told him to "just sit down while I'm still young and pretty". He held back the urge to respond with, "Too late for that". He was pretty sure insulting people was not the best way to make new friends.

"Everyone, this is Daniel," Takada said as he sat down. "He'll be hanging out with us from now on." Again, not an invitation, an order. "Daniel, this is Mikami," she gestured to a guy with long black hair, glasses, and a serious expression, "Matsuda," the boy called Matsuda smiled excitedly, "Sayu," she pointed at a girl with long black hair, big brown eyes, and a sweet face.

Takada pointed to the last few at the table and introduced them, but Daniel wasn't listening. He was too busy staring at a girl across the courtyard. She had blond hair and big blue eyes, and she was laughing at something the girl next to her – Katie, unfortunately, though Daniel could care less at this point – had said. She was very pretty, of course, but it was another thing that really drew his attention to her.

She looked like an older version of the girl in his memory.

Daniel didn't know if it could possibly _be_ the girl from his memory, but maybe… maybe she could be. And if she wasn't, maybe hanging out around someone who looked exactly like the other girl would help get his memories back.

"Daniel," Takada snapped, clearly irritated. She must have called his name several times by now.

"Sorry, Miss Takada," he said quickly, and Takada seemed to grow a little less mad when he addressed her so formerly, as if she were his boss. "Hey, who is that?" he asked, pointing to the blond girl.

"Oh, there she is," Takada said. She raised her voice slightly and called, "It's about time you two showed up. Is being late any way to great a new friend?" The word 'friend' sounded much too trivial for Takada; he would've expected her to say something more like 'partner in friendship' or something.

Katie and the other girl were now only paying attention him, though, clearly not caring about the nouns Takada used. They hurried over, and the blond girl rushed to take the open spot next to Daniel. "Hi, nice to meet you," she cooed. He could almost heart the heart that came at the end of that sentence. "What's you name?"

Well, there went the chances of her being the girl from his memory. He had pretty memorable hair and eyes, and he was sure she would have recognized him if she's known him. But still, being around someone who looked so much like his memory girl could help get more of his memories back. Plus, the girl was really, really cute.

"I'm Daniel," he said.

The girl giggled cutely. "Well, Daniel, it's soooo nice to meet you~" she said sweetly. "I'm Misa."

* * *

**AN: **Does Matt really only like Misa because she looks like his memory *ahem* 'girl'? Is that the only reason he starts dating her? Yes. Well, mostly. He is also a guy, and let's admit it, Misa's really cute, plus she's a slut. So does his girlfriend being Misa make you change your opinion about whether she should die or not? Tell me in a review, or take my poll! *rushes to set up poll* Hey, do you guys hate Jason yet? He's gay, if that weren't already obvious. I know exactly what I'm going to use him for, but I haven't decided yet if I'm going to have him be mean and evil or nice and oblivious about it. If you review, tell me what you want; help me decide!

I truly hope you will never have to wait that long for an update for this story again. That's not to say I'll be updating every week, because school is being a pain in the a** (funny how I'll cuss in my stories but usually not in real life or author's note; I'm just so in-character when I write that I don't even notice). But never again will I disappear for months. If that should happen, assume I have been kidnapped or murdered, unless I tell you otherwise x3.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN- **This update is only a day later than I said it would be, so that's not too bad. Besides, I have a _really_ good reason for not updating yesterday. I had all the common symptoms of appendicitis, so I was, obviously, very worried. I eventually went to the emergency room (as they suggest you do when you think you might have appendicitis). Luckily, it ended up being just a really severe case of the flu (which I still have, but my stomach is in less pain now). So that's what I was doing yesterday – waiting for hours in horrible pain for all my symptoms to start, and then hanging out in the ER and getting a couple blood tests done. I did not have the time or will to update. But again, it's just one day late, so there's nothing to really complain about.

**Disclaimer-** Me no own-o.

Mello stared at where Jason had just been standing, open-mouthed. Well, that encounter certainly stopped the tears. Yes, really. He no longer felt like crying. No, Jason was not some magic-worker – Mello was just a whirlwind of emotions, he could honestly never tell when they were going to change. Maybe he was bipolar. You couldn't put it past him.

"What was that?" a familiar voice sneered, and Mello whirled around, thankful there weren't any tears left in his eyes, and that he wasn't one to turn red and puffy when he cried. "Already moved on to another guy after you figured out that your old _boyfriend_ is straight and doesn't want you?"

Mello was silent at first, shocked by Matt's nasty attitude, but then he shifted into a more Mello-y persona, and smirked. "Ooh, am I sensing some _jealousy _here?" he threw back.

"You wish," Matt scoffed.

As soon as Matt said this, Mello was brought back to the first time he met the redhead. Matt was the only one to ever talk back to him, and Mello admired that. That was why they had become friends in the first place.

**~Matt's First Day at Wammy's~**

Five-year-old Mello was already a force to be reckoned with. Several of the older children feared him – even A and B kept their distance, and they were both insane (in their own unique ways) – and all of the children his age ran away as he walked by. Being one of the smartest children in the orphanage (but not cracking the top three, grrrr… if only A or B would leave – or better, if Near would die), he was intimidating not only in evil ability, but in intelligence and cunning.

An amazing feat for someone who would normally be in kindergarten playing with finger paints.

He took joy out of terrorizing the other kids (mostly the ones his age, of course, though there were some exceptions). So when young Mello heard a new orphan, their age, was to be arriving at Wammy's that day, he was excited that he would have a new person to torture.

The poor kid was even assigned to share a room with him! This was going to be fun…

Mello stood with the other kids at the front gates of Wammy's, waiting for the car holding the new kid to drive up. L would be with him this time. Apparently this kid had been found by L himself, making him of much interest to the other orphans. Mello just saw this as another reason he would tease the boy.

Not that he needed a reason.

The car rolled up and L, hunched over as always, crawled out, a tiny redhead emerging right after him. The orphans were silent. No one moved.

Until Mello took the first step and approached the redhead.

"I'm Mello," he said, with surprising assertiveness for a five-year-old.

"I'm Matt," the boy replied.

"Did I ask for your name?" Mello snapped.

"As much as I asked for yours," Matt shot back. Mello's eyes widened, L smiled slightly, and the orphans stared. No one ever talked to Mello that way. Mello's face slowly started to turn red from anger.

After a few moments of silence, Matt laughed, "What, stunned into silence by my gorgeousness, oh Mello who is not at all mellow?"

Suddenly a smile crawled onto Mello's face, Not a smirk, a smile. "I like you," he stated simply. "You're my new best friend, got it?"

Matt shrugged. "Okay."

**~Present~**

"Hey! Are you paying attention?" Matt's impatient voice snapped Mello out of dreamland.

"What?" Mello asked, slightly dazed.

"Oh, God, don't tell me you were fantasizing about me." Matt shuddered. "When I said 'you wish', I hadn't meant for you to _actually_ wish." He added a muttered, "Creep."

"If you really hate me that much, then why are you even here?" Mello asked tensely.

"Graham asked me to go find you," Matt said.

"Doing exactly what Graham says?" Mello said incredulously. "Are you her dog or her son?"

"Shut up!" Matt yelled. "I just care about the feelings of others, and so does she. She was worried about you, and you should be thankful for that! I know the idea of being considerate towards people other than yourself is a foreign concept to you, but try to understand, at least!"

Mello shook his head. "One minute into a conversation and you're already on the topic of feelings? And you say you're not gay," Mello laughed.

"Fine then – whatever, I _don't_ care!" Matt burst. "I didn't want you to stay at our place anyway."

"Wait, what?"

"Graham sent me down here to find you and ask you to stay with us for a while. She's hoping your mere _presence_ will help bring my memories, though I'm not so sure I _want_ to remember being gay." He shuddered and Mello winced.

"You'd let some guy from your forgotten past who claims he was your boyfriend stay under the same roof as you?" Mello scoffed.

"_I _don't particularly want you to stay, but you'll be sleeping on the couch, and I figure if you ever try anything while I'm sleeping, I always have my pepper spray."

Mello rolled his eyes, then thought about how much said eyes would sting should he be pepper-sprayed, and winced slightly. "Okay, sounds good," Mello said. "Your apartment is much nicer than mine anyway. Do you have a car? I need to pack my stuff up."

"Uh-uh," Matt shook his head sharply. "I can't trust you to drive my car. You'd probably steal it or something."

"Then why don't _you_ drive me?" Seeing Matt's look, Mello added, "I'm not going to molest you or anything. If I do, you can throw me out of the car without stopping."

"Fine," Matt huffed.

Mello followed Matt down several more flights of stairs, out the front door, and around back to an area filled with several one-car garages. They climbed into a rusty old pick-up truck, at which Mello shook his head.

"What's your problem now?" Matt demanded.

"This seems like such an un-Matt-ish car," Mello replied. "But hey, maybe it fits _Daniel _perfectly. Not like I would know."

Matt gripped the steering wheel tighter as they made it onto the road. "No, it doesn't fit _Daniel_ at. In fact, _Daniel _hates this horrible scrap of metal that's probably going to break down on him someday soon. But Graham can't afford anything more right now so Daniel makes due." He glared at Mello out of the corner of his eyes. "Not all of us can be rich like you, you know. I'm surprised you're down-grading to stay with us. Maybe, if you really thought me being around you would get my memories back, you could've had us stay with you instead."

"There are a few things," Mello responded, "that you got wrong in that little rant of yours. First of all, I never said me being around you would help bring back your memories. Graham did. And Graham was the one to offer for me to stay with you – I didn't invite myself to. Oh, and you're going in the wrong direction"

Matt turned to him. "What?"

"You're heading towards the richer, newer side of town. I live in the complete opposite direction," Mello informed him. "That was another thing wrong with your argument. Or do you not remember what I said when you were informing of Graham's gracious offer?" Matt looked at him questioningly. "I said, 'Your apartment is much nicer than mine anyway'. I highly doubt you'd want to stay there. Heck, _I _only stay there because it – " Mello stopped himself there. He couldn't believe he'd almost slipped up and said that the reason he lived in that shitty apartment was because it provided good cover and anonymity from the law. He might've told _Matt_, but never _Daniel_, who already hated him and was probably just waiting for a reason to report him to the police.

"Wait, why do you – "

"Just turn around," Mello cut him off, not giving him a chance to finish his question. "I'll give you the directions from there."

When they arrived at Mello's apartment, Matt stared, looking slightly shocked. "I know, it's a shithole, right?" Mello joked, though that was an accurate description. Mello's joking mood dropped when he recognized two sleek black cars parked outside the run-down building, cars that definitely shouldn't have been there.

"Matt – sorry, _Daniel_, stay in the car," Mello ordered.

"Hey, you can't order me around!" Matt protested.

"Look, I can pack fast, okay?" Mello said. "I'll just be a minute. So just _stay here_. If you want something to do, load my bike up onto the bed of the truck."

Matt slumped back against the seat, pouting. "Fine, whatever," he muttered. "Just hurry up or I'm leaving without you."

"Aww, you're so cute when you pout," Mello teased, patting Matt on the cheek.

He laughed as he got out of the car, Matt's horrified expression following him inside the building. His laughing was tinted with a tinge of sadness, though, because, while he could've called Matt cute every second of every day if he wanted to and Matt would've been slightly embarrassed and turned red, Daniel would have probably punched him after that, if given the chance.

But he should stop obsessing over this, at least for a moment. He had more important things to deal with. Besides, Matt would eventually come around, whether he wanted to or not. Right now, he had to protect Matt from meeting the people waiting for him in his apartment.

He closed the door behind him and stared at the four men, with their bald heads and giant guns. Though, he wasn't scared, really, only one of these people even had the authority to shoot him without their own life being ended as well.

"Mello," that very same person spoke, "we didn't expect to see you here."

"You were waiting at my apartment and you're surprised to see me?" Mello scoffed. "Even you're not that dumb, Rod."

Rod laughed, a big, booming laugh. Like everything about him, it was loud, self-important, and obnoxious.

"What are you here for anyway?" Mello asked casually, starting to go around the room and pack his things up into a bag he had pulled out from the closet.

Instead of answering his question, Rod asked, "What are you doing?"

"Packing up," Mello said simply. "That's what I came here to do in the first place. I'll temporarily be living in another residence."

"With who?" Ro asked, and Mello didn't bother to correct him on his poor grammar.

"A friend of mind," Mello answered. "He's not affiliated with our business, so he's not a threat. More of a liability."

"We don't have room for liabilities," Rod said.

"I'll take responsibility for him okay? And if he's kidnapped or something to try and get some information out of us, then I'll just let him die." Mello winced internally at the thought of letting Matt die – it was a total lie; he would never let that happen, not even to this new Daniel-Matt. "So could you tell me why you're here now?"

"There won't be any raid on Saturday," Rod said. "We took care of it." The other men nodded.

"Fine, whatever, is that all?" Mello asked, as he packed the last of his items, including Matt's goggles (can't hurt to dream, right? Wait, actually, it can).

Rod nodded and his men stood up to leave, when the front door to the apartment was thrown open.

"Mello, what's taking you so – " Matt stopped in his tracks when he saw the four huge muscle-bound men in Mello's apartment. "W-what the…"

Mello cussed under his breath. Stupid Matt!

…

Daniel was bored. Really bored.

He hadn't intended on actually following Mello's orders and loading the motorcycle onto the truck, but it gave him something to do. So did flirting with the woman who pulled the bike off of him when he dropped it while trying to get it up onto the bed of the truck. What? Gamers weren't known for their arm strength. Yes he was a gamer. But in secret, so shh!

And that woman was hot.

Well Misa wasn't around, and he knew for a fact that she slept with other guys, so why couldn't he flirt with other girls? Emphasis on the _'girls'_ part. As in not men. As in not Mello. And he was not cute when he pouted damn it! He hadn't even been pouting!

The chick left soon after they had loaded the bike (about which Daniel had lied and said was his) onto the truck, and he was back to being bored. God, Mello had said he was only going to take a minute. Where the hell was he?

Daniel decided he was going to go find Mello, though his gut twisted at the idea of being alone in an apartment with him. He checked over the metal mail boxes. One had been painted black and an M had been sketched out of the paint. He rolled his eyes. That was definitely Mello's.

He didn't bother knocking, just threw the door open (it looked like the lock had been broken anyway), demanding, "Mello, what's taking you so – " and stopping short upon noticing the other people in the room, all very huge and intimidating. "What the…"

He heard a muttered curse come from Mello, before the blond was at his side in a slightly protective stance.

The biggest one there was the first to speak, "Mello, who is this?" he asked in a chillingly pleasant way.

"This is… the guy I told you about," Mello said. "The one I'll be living with for a while."

"So he's the liability."

"Liability?" Daniel yelled, facing Mello. "I'm a liability? How the hell am – "

Next thing he knew there was a gun pointed at his had. Mello's gun. Mello was pointing a gun at his head! And he was doing it so casually! "Shut up," Mello said simply. He still wasn't looking at Daniel, choosing instead to stare down the other men.

"I don't see why we just can't kill him," the bald man said. "Why take unnecessary risks?"

"Because I won't let you kill him," Mello said icily, and his tone sent a shiver down Daniel's spine.

"Why does it matter so much to you? He's just some person who's letting you stay with him. You could just kill him and take his place for yourself."

"He matters to me because…" At that moment Mello shot Daniel a pleading look that none of the others noticed, one that said '_please just go along with this_'. "He matters because he's my boyfriend, and I'm not letting go of him without a fight."

And then, he did something the already shocked Daniel couldn't believe. Mello grabbed his shoulders and roughly pulled the redhead closer to him, and mashed their lips together.

Daniel was too shocked to respond, and then angry at himself for the tingles that went up and down his spine. But they were from disgust, right? He didn't _like_ it, right? Because he was totally straight and even if he was gay, would never be interested in a guy like Mello.

Right?

**AN- ***le gasp* Matt and Mello kissed!So now you're probably thinking Matt's going to fall in love with Mello right away, right? Nope. There'll be some moments like this, but Matt will be fighting it the whole time (though that should be obvious). What? I can't make it _easy_ on Mello, can I? And let's not forget minor setbacks like Misa and Jason and Matt's amnesia. Nope, just give it a while.

Sorry that this was basically a filler chapter. BTW, I can totally imagine teenagers running away from little five-year-old Mello XD.

I have a bunch of new stories I'm thinking about doing. If you are feeling kind enough, go to my profile and read their summaries, then pick your favorite two on my poll! The top two will be the ones that get first priority. So if it sounds interesting, vote for it!


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